The Thing With Feathers
by BeyondTheSea13
Summary: After an undercover investigation into a human trafficking ring goes south, Jane and Lisbon find themselves in a situation where one wrong word could spell the difference between life and death.
1. A Crack Like a Whip

A/N: Hey guys! So, I'm knew to the Mentalist fandom, and this is my first Mentalist fic. I'm not asking you to be kind in your reviews. You can feel free to rip me to shreds should you feel so inclined, as long as it's constructive. I just wanted to let you know where I'm at. Hope you like it!

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_Crack!_

A wave of nausea shot Patrick Jane's body. He took a deep breath and chanced a look at his leg, outstretched between the stained couch on which he was sitting and the coffee table. Yes, it was definitely broken. He squeezed his eyes shut again. Beside him, he could hear Lisbon struggling.

"Keep still," someone with a gravely voice was telling her. It sounded like Spike or maybe McKinney. "It will be easier that way." She wasn't listening. Jane couldn't say he blamed her. He felt the men who had been pinning him to the couch retreat and, judging by the sound of their footsteps, go to help hold her down. A moment later, he heard the dull thud of a sledgehammer hitting bone, followed by a soft whimper. He risked opening his eyes once more, just in time to see the sledgehammer collide with her leg a second time. Her complexion was becoming steadily chalkier and her lips were pressed shut, holding back a scream. Jane could tell how much energy it was costing her, holding in that scream. With a final swing of the hammer, he heard another crack, higher-pitched this time. It echoed through the room in a way his had not. Jane knew that sound would haunt him in the coming weeks.

Suddenly, he felt a pair of arms sliding under his armpits and around his chest. He was being lifted. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Spike throwing Lisbon over his shoulder. He was being dragged away from the couch now, toward the doorway opposite the one through which they'd entered. His leg was throbbing and additional waves of pain shot up his body each time he was jostled. Those ten feet felt like a mile. Finally they reached a doorway. The man, Hal, dropped Jane on the concrete floor just inside the room. Somewhere behind him, he heard Lisbon's body hit the ground. Hal and Spike exited the room without a word, pulling the door shut behind them, and Jane and Lisbon were left in what natural light crept in from the small window near the ceiling.

"Jane," he heard Lisbon call softly. "Are you okay?"

"Not exactly," he replied, looking around. Five feet away, Lisbon was sitting up and rubbing her hand gently over her shin. "You?"

"I've been worse," she answered as he slowly began to pull himself to his feet. "What are you doing?"

His fingers closed around a beaded chain, and he pulled. A single light bulb filled the room with a dim light. He dropped back to the ground, a strangled cry escaping his lips as a fresh bolt of pain shot up his leg.

"You know what happened right?" Lisbon was asking. He focused his eyes back on her. Her complexion had taken on a slightly green tint and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Her broken leg was outstretched in front of her.

Jane nodded solemnly. "We've been made."

"How do you think they found out?" Lisbon wondered as she scooted herself backwards to lean against the drywall.

"Not from me," he said, reaching up and removing the beanie Lisbon had insisted he wear to cover up his very conspicuous hair. He lowered his voice. "Rigsby's not here."

"Why would they know about us and not him?" Lisbon whispered.

"They know there's someone else," he replied. "They just don't know who."

Lisbon paused to think. "How do you figure?"

"Simple," he explained. "We're still alive."

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Hi, again. You should probably review. I reply to all of them. See you next update, hopefully.


	2. Redux

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry about the delay. I've been on vacation for the past week. No computer. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews! I've really enjoyed reading everyones opinions. Keep them coming! And, without further ado...

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"We landed a big one," Lisbon announced as she walked through the bullpen. It was ten o'clock on a Wednesday morning. Van Pelt rushed to conceal the eye liner she was using to touch herself up while Rigsby quickly minimized his game of solitaire. Cho, however, closed his book and leisurely placed it on the desk beside his keyboard. Lisbon pretended not to notice any of this, though Jane could tell from the slightly exasperated expression on her face, she had. Lisbon seemed to have an unspoken agreement with her team that she wouldn't call them out for misusing time on the clock as long as they were discrete about it.

"What is it?" Rigsby asked, pushing himself out of his chair and following her to the table.

"Jane, this involves you too," Lisbon called. Jane forced himself off the couch, leaving behind what had been a perfectly good daydream about a knight and a certain red dragon. When he had joined them, she started. "We're being let in on an operation that could be a name-maker for CBI, and with all the bad press surrounding Wainwright's death, it's something we need." She began to pass out files. "The FBI is including us in an investigation of a human trafficking organization operating out of Greater Sacramento. The director asked for our team specifically. This is an opportunity for all of us."

"Do you think they're tapping you as Wainwright's replacement?" Van Pelt asked, a confusing mixture of excitement and concern apparent in her voice.

Lisbon considered the possibility for a moment before shaking her head. "I've been in too much trouble recently," she replied. "We're all lucky to be getting this assignment, considering the stunt we pulled."

"Lisbon would never accept the position anyway," Jane added. "She likes being part of the action too much. She would never turn in her gun for a pen." He turned to Lisbon. "Metaphorically speaking of course. They would let you keep your gun."

"Thank you for informing me," she answered dryly, beginning to distribute files.

"Don't mention it," he said, taking the file Cho was passing him. He flipped it open.

"Wait a minute," Rigsby was shuffling through his papers. "Why is mine twice as thick as everyone else's?"

"I was just getting to that," Lisbon replied in a tone that told Jane quite plainly she'd been looking forward to making this announcement. She looked around at the team. "Rigsby and I will be going undercover within the human trafficking ring." She turned back to Rigsby. That file contains your cover and information you'll need. I suggest you—"

"Memorize it, I know," Rigsby finished, looking as if Christmas had come early.

"This is a big opportunity for you," she repeated. "If this op goes as planned, I wouldn't be surprised if you were rewarded with your own team. Cho, you're in charge here. You and Van Pelt will be coordinating with the FBI." She stood up and started to leave the table. "The operation starts on Wednesday."

"Lisbon," Jane hurried after her. "What about me?"

"What about you?" she repeated.

He glanced back at the table, where Van Pelt was congratulating Rigsby and trying not to seems so worried and Cho was eavesdropping while pretending to gather his notes. "What do I get to do?"

"I don't know," Lisbon shrugged. "Stay here? Help Cho and Van Pelt? For once, the FBI didn't ask for you personally."

"Isn't that a waist of my skill set?" Jane asked.

Lisbon looked at him, a smile playing at her lips "I have you doubt you'll find other ways to use it."

"Why did you wake me up if I'm not going to be doing anything," he pressed.

"Cut the crap, we both know you weren't asleep," she replied. "And I want your help on this. Even out of the field, your insight is invaluable to this team."

"Let me go undercover with you and Rigsby," he said.

"No," Lisbon replied immediately. "You're not an agent. You haven't been trained for this. You don't even have a weapon."

"Lisbon, what's the one thing that always draws suspicion on to an undercover agent?" he asked. "The appearance of investigating right? Asking too many questions? Seeming too interested in everyone's business?"

"I guess," Lisbon answered slowly. Jane could almost see the gears turning.

"But I don't have to investigate," he continued. "You just said I was invaluable. I can save you and Rigsby a lot of unnecessary risks."

"Having you with us is an unnecessary risk," Lisbon argued. "This won't be just any murder suspect we're dealing with. Jane, these guys are dangerous. If they find out who we are, they'll kill us."

"Exactly," Jane agreed. "Which is what I can prevent."

To Jane's relief, Lisbon seemed to be considering the idea. "You have a knack for pissing people off," she warned him. "I can't have that on this op."

"I'll be good," he promised.

She sighed. "I'll need to get you all the information."

"No need," Jane assured her. "I just need to glance at your…" He pulled the file out from under her arm and flipped through it, barely glancing at each page. "Got it," he handed it back to her.

"Now you're just showing off," she rolled her eyes. "I'll get you a cover." She began to walk away, pulling her phone out of her belt.

"Lisbon," Jane called after her. She stopped and turned back to him. He smiled. "Relax, it will be fun."

"That's the attitude that's going to get us killed," she replied.

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A/N: So there's part of the explanation everyone has been asking me about. See, all you had to do was wait for the next chapter ;)

I know, even though this chapter was longer than the first, it's still pretty short. Now that I've set everything up, they should start to get longer.

Also, kudos to anyone who thinks they know where I got the title of the fic. If you don't know worries. It will come up eventually.


	3. What Is to Come

A/N: Hey guys. First off, I want you to know that I always have the best intentions of getting at least a chapter up a month, but I'm in school now, I have a job, and I have other commitments that just have to come first (let's face it, putting that I'm a prolific fanfic author on my resume is probably not going to get me anywhere). At least you can rest assured that this chapter is longer than the first two, and I expect them to get longer from here on out. Well, you've waited long enough, so without further ado, enjoy!

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Lisbon had watched the sky change from blue to black, and back to blue, by the next time they heard boots on the stairs. Jane looked at her for direction, and much to her own dismay, Lisbon didn't have any. She'd been trying to concoct any semblance of a plan since the sun had come up, but she just didn't see them overpowering three or four men, not with broken legs at least.

She and Jane had spent the better part of the previous evening seeing if they could stand, if they could walk. Under normal circumstances, Lisbon would have insisted they keep their legs immobile, but escaping seemed a higher priority at the moment than trying not to make worse an injury that, even in the worst case scenario, could easily be rectified with surgery. They had not experienced any success, however. The best she had done was hop a couple of feet on one leg, and Jane hadn't even managed that. It had taken her all night, but she had finally come to terms with the fact that she had no escape plan.

The light from the other room burned Lisbon's eyes when the door opened. She had been so immersed in thought, she hadn't even heard their footsteps. She could barely make out the shadows of two men enter the room and drag something out. Before her eyes had adjusted to the light, the door was closed again, and Jane was gone. She pulled herself to her feet and hopped to the door, willing herself not to scream as a jet of pain shot up her leg. She pressed her ear to the door. The boots were retreating, and then they stopped. She heard something open, someone shuffling around. Jane was talking, quickly, by the sound of it. She couldn't make out what he was saying. He was probably trying to talk them out of doing whatever it was they were about it do, and she prayed he wasn't agitating them. Suddenly, he was yelling, begging. Then there was an earsplitting scream. Lisbon yanked her head away from the door so quickly she lost her balance and stepped backward. Her injured leg gave way and she fell to the ground. Jane was still shrieking. She had never felt more useless. Then, the room went silent.

Lisbon was just beginning to accept the fact that she might be alone when Jane was finally returned. The door burst open, and he fell face-first on the floor. Lisbon did not wait for the door to slam shut again before crawling to his side.

"Jane?" she whispered, trying to keep the remnants of tears from her voice. "Jane?" There was a groan. He was alive. "Jane, what did they do to you?" she asked. When he didn't answer her question, didn't even move, she leaned over and rolled him over. Her eyes roamed his body, searching for a wound.

Jane opened his mouth to speak. "There's a nail," he moaned. He paused and grimaced in pain before continuing. "In my shoulder."

Just as he uttered the words, Lisbon found it. The head of the nail was even with the fabric of his shirt, blood blossoming across the white cotton.

"Get it out," Jane was grunting through clenched teeth.

"I can't," Lisbon replied, trying to remain logical. Images of injections and blood loss slid across her mind. "We have to leave it in." She took a deep breath to clear her head. "Did you see how long it was, the nail?"

"Of course," he answered. "Two inches."

"Okay," Lisbon breathed. She knew first aid. She'd seen agents get shot. She was not stranger to taking care of injuries. Usually, however, there were EMTs en route. She had bandages, disinfectant, usually, the damage wasn't inflicted by a human trafficker who had her at his complete mercy. There was more to come. She was sure of it. "Okay, we're just going to immobilize your arm." She removed her button-up and tore two strips off the bottom, shivering. The basement felt much cooler in only a tank top, but Jane was even worse off with the blood loss. She tied her cloth strips together. "Can you sit up?"

She saw him lift his shoulders off the floor, and with an utterance of pain, drop them back down. "Okay," she replied. "That's okay. I'm just going to…" She wound her arms around his back and pulled him into a sitting position. Then, she pressed his injured arm two his side and tied the cloth around his body. "Do you want to lie back down?"

"No," he shook his head. "Hurts too much." Using his right arm and left leg, he scooted himself to the wall and gingerly leaned his left shoulder against it. "You've got blood on you shirt."

Lisbon looked down. There was a red spot shining on her tank top right across the middle of her chest. "You're very observant."

"I'll get you another one," Jane offered. "When we get out of here."

"That's okay," she answered. "It's just a shirt."

"It's your favorite shirt," he corrected her. "It's softer than the others."

"How did you—" Lisbon knew that after years of working with Jane, she really should be used to this sort of thing, but somehow, he continued to surprise her.

"I can tell by the way you move," he explained. "Your posture. And I felt it when you helped me up."

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Of course." Her exasperation quickly evaporated when she saw the grimace still on his face. "How's the pain."

"It still hurts," Jane replied simply."

"Are you cold?" she continued.

"No more than before," he answered.

"Good," she said. "Then you haven't lost _too_ much blood. See? It's nothing to worry about. Nothing a surgeon won't be able to patch up in an hour. As soon as we get out of here."

"Nonsense," Jane argued. "Fifty dollars says I'm in surgery at least two hours."

Despite her best efforts, Lisbon smiled. "You're on."

"I'll take you to the cleaners," he added, but his eyelids were beginning to droop. Lisbon judged, based on the amount of blood on his shirt, that it was safe for him to go to sleep, so she allowed him to. Neither of them had slept at all the previous night, and she figured he should take it when he could get it.

As Jane slept a foot away, Lisbon wondered about Rigsby. She wondered if he knew where they were, if anyone was onto him. She knew he was not in a position to help them. He probably didn't even have his cell phone anymore. Lisbon doubted any of the new recruits were allowed contact with the outside world while there was still an unknown agent among them. Rigsby had to know he was their only chance. As long as he kept his head down, they would be okay. He would be careful. He had a son to get back to, after all.

She glanced at Jane. He was leaning against the wall the same way a person would lean against a car window, his damaged arm still attached to his side. She felt a pang of guilt. She shouldn't have let them take him. He was a civilian. He really had no business being on this operation in the first place. He was only here because she'd been unable to say no to him. She was an officer of the law. It was her job to protect him. He'd been assigned to her for a reason. Jane would not die here. She would make damn sure of that.

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A/N: Hope you all enjoyed that. Please review if you have a minute. It means a lot, and it definitely motivates me to write faster. Also, THE MENTALIST COMES BACK IN FORTY-FOUR HOURS! Just throwing that out there. Well, I'll see you all at the next update, which will hopefully be in less than two months.


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